Goyle disappeared from his side only when they had reached the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's quarters. Draco watched as his fellow Slytherin turned on his heel and left him without another word spoken between them. He straightened himself before he stepped into the spiraling staircases, for no longer was the gargoyle protecting the opening; the doorway was free for anyone to enter.
Soon he came into the Headmaster's room. He was not interested at how it looked; he had been in here before, the time when he was personally told that he would be the Head Boy, to be precise. No, Draco was not interested on how it looked, rather, he was interested on who was occupying it that time. It was not Dumbledore, that was for sure.
It was his father.
"Ah, Draco," the older Malfoy muttered in satisfaction, as he looked up from one of the books he'd been perusing. "So glad for you to come."
Draco studied his father with his eyes, their color the same with the ones studying him earlier. "Goyle said you sent him for me," he answered. "He said you insisted that I come."
Lucius closed the book he was holding and laid it on the table before him. He rose from Dumbledore's seat with the ease of a king. "Of course I did," he said. "I trust that your friend had already mentioned to you what has happened to dear Miss Parkinson."
The younger Malfoy cringed at the word friend. "He did." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I demand to know who killed her."
"Unfortunately," Lucius said to him, "there is no way of telling who did. All the wands that were confiscated from the students were tested, and not one was proven to be the wand that killed her." His face was filled with solemnity. "I know it must be hard for you, Draco, to hear that she's dead. She would've made a beautiful – and loyal – wife for you…"
This time, Draco cannot help the shiver he felt at the word wife. He turned away and pretended to study one of the paintings; the occupant of which was strangely absent. "Yes, Father, it was very… unfortunate indeed." He turned to face him again. "However, I cannot help but feel that her death could've been prevented had this whole attack been never made."
His father walked towards him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I understand your anger, Draco," he said lightly, "after all, one of the casualties of this attack happened to be an intimate acquaintance of yours. However, I cannot and will not tolerate your questioning about the motives of our Lord. Do you understand me?"
Draco stared at his father's eyes. He noted the seriousness and the finality of his words. "Yes, Father."
Lucius looked pleased. "Very well." He removed his hand from his son's shoulder, and then turned to walk towards Dumbledore's bookshelf. "You should be interested to know that Potter and his friends had managed to escape," he said blandly, as he busied himself with browsing through the large mass of books before him.
"Perhaps they did so because the ones they faced were untalented Slytherins," Draco commented dryly. "Had I been the one to face them…" he let his words die on their own, for the meaning behind them was very evident.
"But," his father continued, completely ignoring his comment, "Miss Bulstrode was able to eliminate one of the Weasleys… what was the name of the youngest…?"
"Virginia, I believe," Draco supplemented.
"Oh, yes. That girl in the chamber." Lucius smirked at his son. "Virginia. A nice name, don't you think? It's a pity it belongs to a worthless, penniless Weasley."
"Millicent killed a Weasel?" Draco asked in genuine surprise. "I never knew she had it in her. Too bad she wasn't able to kill the older one as well."
"You mean Potter's friend?" Lucius asked. When Draco nodded, he continued. "Yes, well. It was unfortunate that he was one of the few who were able to escape. It might be an opportunity for you, though. When your paths cross again, perhaps you can finish the job of ridding the world of another Weasley."
"Perhaps." The younger Malfoy looked at his father, the curiosity inside him burning him up. "Father," he began, "Goyle told me something about… about that Mudblood. Do you really think she killed Pansy?"
The older Malfoy shook his head. "No, I do not," he answered. "Her wand was among those confiscated from the other students, but her body was not among those who died. But she doesn't matter. What is important is that we will never stop until the killer is found, and severely punished. Rest assured, my son, that Miss Parkinson will be avenged." Lucius looked at Draco's empty hands. "Where's your wand?"
Draco glanced at his hands before he answered. "I lost it," he said. "I was chasing some Gryffindor in the woods, and just as I was to close in on her… Goyle suddenly came hollering my name. I was distracted, and that gave the Gryffindor the chance to disarm me." He hung his head, as if shamed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father."
"Now, now, Draco," he said as he came towards his son. "It is unfortunate, but we cannot prevent that. Your wand is replaceable, do not fret much about it." Lucius tapped him sharply on the shoulder. "Come. We must go back to the house and rest."
The two Malfoys went out of Dumbledore's office. Lucius needed to talk to some of the other Death Eaters, and that gave Draco an opportunity to look out the window. To his disbelief, he saw a large grave being dug by several men, and when it was wide enough the dumping of the dead bodies began. His eyes still sharp despite the dark of the night, he managed to recognize some of the corpses as those that belong to the different Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students that once lived and studied in this school. Only the Slytherin house seemed to be devoid of any casualty, for he cannot see anyone that came from his house in the pile of dead bodies outside…
A hand was placed again on his shoulder, and when Draco looked up he saw the face of his Head of House grimly looking at the mass grave. "Sir," he acknowledged, before he asked, "was there any other Slytherin that was killed tonight? Aside from Pansy?"
Severus Snape glanced at him, his beady eyes darker and fiercer than ever before. "No," he answered. "Our house was fortunately spared."
And then he left without another word.
*
Hermione clutched at the wand she held; the wood giving her some sense of comfort. True to her unspoken promise, she counted up to three hundred before she dared to move. The silence in the woods was very threatening to her; she cannot help the paranoiac feeling she got from having to hear nothing but the hum of her blood in her ears. Her heart was tumbling wildly in her chest, and she kept looking around her in fear that something might come out of the shadows to attack her. But the wand in her hands was a source of security; despite giving her limited powers, at least the wand was a way to protect herself.
She began to murmur incantations as she moved. Simple spells, average spells, difficult and advanced spells tumbled out of her lips, and the recitations was a way for her to calm herself down. When she was too busy thinking, she could ignore the fear, she realized. And so, she entertained all kinds of thoughts, all types that would distract her from feeling helpless and afraid, feelings that were definitely foreign to her.
When the light of the moon failed to guide her way, she whispered a simple "Lumos," and the light that emanated from Draco's wand became her source of light. With agility she never knew she had, she made her way across the forest and was now on a clearing.
The question on her mind, then, was, what now?
"Use that wand." Draco's words came back to her. "It's going to lead you to safety."
Hermione looked at the wand she held. "How?" she whispered to herself. "How is this going to lead me to safety?"
She looked around her, and knew that she was in a completely unfamiliar and foreign ground. She had never, in her seven years in Hogwarts, ventured farther than the Forbidden Forest. Now she was beyond the forbidden Forest. "Merlin," she asked, "what am I going to do?"
After a few more minutes, inspiration struck her. She closed her eyes, and said, "Take me to the safest place. Please." Hermione didn't know if this would work, but she had to try something!
There was the flutter of movement around her, as if a gust of wind swiftly swept past her. As the fluttering stopped, she dared to open her eyes…
… and found herself inside a room.
"It's about time you got in here," she heard Draco Malfoy drawl.
Author's Notes: I'm very song this chapter took too long. Anyways, I hope my portrayal of Lucius Malfoy is acceptable. I am a firm believer that he and Draco are not as estranged as they are portrayed to be. Thank you for reading, and please review! :)